


war and peace

by ecstasyseeker



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Enthusiastic Consent, Established Relationship, F/M, Pegging, Sexual Experimentation, dramatic emotionally repressed avengers, me briefly being an audrey hepburn nerd, nat wearing a strap, steve blushing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-18 01:35:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29850582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ecstasyseeker/pseuds/ecstasyseeker
Summary: Nat fucks Steve with a strap. Former Russian spy pegging America's ass. What's not to love?
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov
Comments: 2
Kudos: 40





	war and peace

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this little fic several months ago, but never published it, as is the fate of most things I write. But I keep coming back to this one. I am so attached to it that I can hardly go back to proofread and edit, so it's not perfect, but it's my baby.
> 
> I have emailed and/or texted this to many of my friends, all of which told me to post it here. So here I am. 
> 
> I LOVE pegging. I think it's the power dynamic of it- the subversion of traditional gender roles in M/F sex, the man being penetrated. Sexually vulnerable men! Sexually powerful women! Pegging! It's just great. I also think SteveNat is the perfect pairing to try pegging, their dynamic just... fits. And I love them dearly. So here we go!

“I wanna peg you.”

She says this casually, over cheerios at the small mahogany table in his humble Brooklyn apartment, twirling her still dry spoon. She’s been staring at him for a good five minutes and he has yet to notice, enraptured in his breakfast platter. 

“What?” Steve asks around a mouthful of bacon, it crunches, a few crumbs falling onto the table, and Natasha has to bite her lip to keep serious. He looks confused rather than shocked, at which point Natasha’s suspicions that he would have no idea what pegging was are confirmed.

“It’s a sex thing,” She says carefully. 

“Let’s do it.” 

Now she does let out a brief chuckle folded into a cough, because of course he’d say this. They’d been having sex for several months now, probably seven or eight if she had to guess, and they’d managed to do a lot in that time. She’d shown him the ropes, as it were. Oh, how she’d shown him the ropes. 

That being said, he was still Steve. And Steve was still relatively oblivious to the many nuances of twenty-first century intercourse.

“Well, it’s... Do you know what it is?” 

“No, but if it’s with you I’ll do it.” 

He’s so earnest, so open and so good to her that she stands up from the table, walks to the bedroom and straight into her side of his closet where she’d stored the Goods. She pulls the strappy leather contraption out of the tissue paper laden box and puts it on over her underwear, having slept in his shirt the previous night. When she emerges from the hallway, he’s facing her, eyes bulging at the sight of the sizable black dildo protruding from the harness. He looks at it for several seconds.

“That goes in my ass.” He states simply, cheeks pink with understanding. She nods, her own face heating just a bit.

“That is the idea, yes.”

Steve takes a long moment. Considering. Appraising the apparatus and how it looks on her, framed against her small stature. The more he examines it, the more he is intrigued, and the more Natasha is excited. First things first, though.

“If you don’t want to, all of it goes off the table. No questions asked.” She says earnestly. 

He stands from the table, gaze much darker than when she’d last registered it. He comes closer, so close that she has to look up to make contact with his searing eyes. So close that she thinks she senses two distinct bulges between them. 

Against her ear, the way he knows drives her mad, he says solidly, “I want to.” 

She bites her cheek to suppress the grin, “Good. See you tonight.” 

————

Steve thinks she must have picked the longest movie possible. After a day at the compound, training and debriefing from the team’s latest mission abroad, a whole day spent obsessively thinking about Natasha and her strap-on, all he wanted was to come home and get fucked. 

Natasha had other plans. Well— she had the same plans, just a different trajectory. Any opportunity to tease, she would take. Especially if it involves torturously creeping her hand up his thigh. 

Now they’re ninety minutes into the 1956 version of War and Peace, and when Natasha pauses it so she can use the bathroom, he spots the total runtime of 208 minutes and barely suppresses a whine. Three and a half hours. Steve makes his decision and heads steadily to the bathroom door. 

He hears the sink turn off and she nearly runs into his chest when she emerges, he’s standing so close. 

“Nat, I can’t watch another second of this movie.” 

His borderline desperation has to be clear in his voice. Nevertheless, she plays coy. “But Steve, Leo Tolstoy is one of the most prominent Russian artists. Don’t you want to respect my culture by watching one of his masterpieces brought to the screen?” 

“I read Anna Karenina in high school.”

“What about your culture, then? Audrey Hepburn is a national treasure and she’s not even American.” 

“I’ve seen Breakfast at Tiffany’s,” With this he closes the distance between them, slanting his mouth over hers and licking at the seam of her lips. Her cheeky facade cracks, and she hums into his fierce kiss, arms circling his neck as she opens his mouth for him. 

He takes the invitation and runs with it, pressing her firmly into the wall and hungrily devouring her mouth. When they break for air, he looks at her. 

“I want you to fuck me. Now.” 

His voice is hoarse and all she can do is nod. (And lead him to the bedroom.)

Once they cross that threshold, it’s like the roles are reversed. Like she’s finally going to stop playing games and give him what he’s been fantasizing about since that morning. Even longer, if he thinks about it. He might not have known the specifics or known about pegging, but he’d found it fascinating and deeply arousing to surrender himself to her since they started this whole thing. They’re both switches anyway, but to physically switch roles and have him be the one penetrated... the thought is enough to stiffen his cock with excitement. Now, she nudges him onto the bed, straddling his lap where he sits down and kisses him harder than he’d just kissed her, if that’s possible. 

Steve hates to think that she tastes like strawberries, because strawberries really don’t have a consistent taste, and it’s one of his pet peeves. She does, however, give him a feeling he associates with strawberries. Maybe it’s happiness. Maybe it’s love. Maybe it’s overshadowed by his eagerness at the fact that she does taste faintly like whiskey and smells like pine and has a strap-on dildo in the closet that she’s about to use on him.

Natasha pushes her hands into his shirt and scratches up his abs, tweaking his nipples, eliciting a surprised little moan from him. This seems to please her and she pulls his shirt all the way off, kissing down his jaw, neck, and shoulders. She reaches his nipples again and graces her teeth against one of them, causing him to moan again. Her dominance does ridiculous things to him and he has a feeling that’s only going to become more relevant as the evening progresses.

Reaching his navel, she unbuttons his jeans and palms his hardness through the fabric, a gesture he graciously accepts. Natasha removes his pants and underwear in one go, and his cock springs up in anticipation. She gives it exactly one wet lick and two pumps before disappearing into the walk-in closet. She didn’t say it in so many words, but he gets the idea that he shouldn’t touch himself until she gets back. He positively throbs for her. 

When she returns, she is a sight to behold. She’s wearing a black bra he’s never seen before, a small thing with delicate lace covering the swell of her breasts, teasing as to what lies underneath. The only other thing she’s wearing is the harness, complete with the dildo. The contrast of the thick black leather straps against her pale skin makes his cock twitch as his eye catches the scar on her hip just above where the strap lays and his heart clenches with just how incredibly beautiful she is. He also notices she’s holding a sizable bottle of lube. 

“Come here,” He nearly whimpers, half yanking her into his searing kiss. They stay like that for several moments, just a heady connection of lips and tongue that becomes surprisingly slow and sensual given what they’re about to do. Eventually, she pulls them apart, just to rest her forehead on his.

“Nat-“

“Get on all fours.” 

If his words were whispers, hers were quiet commands, and he is more than willing to obey. She drops a quick kiss to his temple and he follows her orders. 

Now Steve is on the bed, facing the wall. He is exceedingly aware that his ass is in full view, can practically feel her eyes on him. This is perhaps the most sexually vulnerable position he’s ever been in, and yet it only feels thrilling.

She sidles up behind him, on her knees with her legs between his own. Then she’s all soft hands and gentle caresses over his back, his waist, his thighs, his ass. She’s almost massaging him and he feels so relaxed that he has to arch his back. 

Natasha takes this as her cue to expel a generous amount of lube onto her fingers and spread it around his hole. He groans at the sudden coolness and at how slippery it is as she begins to trace a finger around the perimeter. 

“Natasha,” He pants with need.

“I’m here, baby,” She says, her index finger entering him. 

Hearing her call him that and feeling her breach his hole has him moaning, nearly begging as she adds a second finger, stretching him out. 

“Fuck,” He hears her whisper and suddenly she’s kissing up to his shoulder blades. “You’re doing so good, Steve,” She whispers in his ear as she pushes a third finger into him, eliciting another groan. He usually only uses two on her, but considering his fingers are much larger than hers this makes sense. The thought of her being so petite but so powerful, so erotic, so incredible... it heats him to the core.

Turning his head slightly to meet her eyes, “Fuck me, please.” He breathes. 

She kisses his cheek affectionately, “We can stop at any time.” 

“Please,” He nearly begs, his tone more urgent than ever. 

She presses an oddly chaste kiss to his lips this time. Then, she repositions her hips directly behind his, rubbing more lube over the dildo and poising the head at his entrance. 

“Ready, baby?” 

Beyond words at this point, all he can do is groan and rub his ass against her. She grasps his hip with one hand to spread his cheeks apart and her dick with the other, slowly and carefully pushing the head inside him.

———

Natasha moans as she enters Steve’s tight opening. He gasps at the pressure, the entirely new sensation of being filled. Although Natasha cannot physically feel the dildo as if it were part of her nervous system, she senses the resistance of Steve’s body even being as gentle as she is, and it’s addictive. 

She swivels her hips lightly, helping him adjust to the girth before she goes any deeper, slowly pushing in one centimeter at a time. The lube certainly helps, and Steve’s enjoying it based on the noises he’s omitting, but she hasn’t forgotten his super-soldier sensitivity. She wants to fill him, craves it, but she doesn’t want to hurt him.

As if on cue, Steve releases a loud, strangled sound of pleasure as his fists tighten in the duvet, and he rocks himself back, causing Natasha to slip in an extra inch. 

“Nat—“ He pants, “Please,” and in his tone Natasha hears the words he didn’t have to say.

Harder. Faster. Deeper. 

Fuck me.

She quickens the pace slightly, gradually pushing deeper into him on each thrust. Steve’s cock is so hard, swinging back and forth between his legs, almost brushing the bedspread and slapping his abdomen as precome dribbles from the tip. They both moan when she bottoms out, when she’s sheathed to the hilt inside Captain America.

How mesmerizing it is to observe herself rutting into him. She’s done many things before, but never this, and the visual of the strap-on disappearing inside him at her will as he moans gloriously is unbelievably arousing. More than the concept of it, Natasha knows a bit about male anatomy. She spent years studying it, the ways to exploit it, to torture it, to kill it. Of course, she would never do any of this to Steve (unless he asked for it), but knowledge is knowledge. So she knows when she hits his prostate. 

The sound he lets out is certainly enough to alert the neighbors, and after that the noises don’t stop coming. The scream rips from his chest, bouncing off the walls despite his gritted teeth and strained neck muscles. He’s so overcome, losing himself in the pleasure, in the novel feeling of being full as Natasha fucks him in earnest.

He is beautiful. 

Natasha continues to plow into him, consistently pressing against his prostate. With his reactions to her every movement spurring her on, she’s never felt more alive, more powerful. Every one of her nerves is buzzing, humming along to the rhythm they’ve created. The pure eroticism of Steve’s condition makes the muscles of her cunt clench around nothing, realizing how incredibly wet she is. 

“Nat, I cant, I—“ His words taper off into a crushing moan as he clutches his cock, come spurting in thick white ropes onto the duvet. She bites her lip to stifle a sound of her own, slowing her pace and letting him come down. She realizes that both of them are covered in a light layer of sweat, like they’ve just finished a good round of training, as she rubs his back, as far up as she can reach, until she’s gotten him ready to pull out. 

When she does, he omits a soft, sensual noise at the loss of fulfillment, but he collapses onto his side, panting, as she loosens the straps of the apparatus, tossing it to the side to be dealt with later. Once it’s off, she slides up next to him, dusting gentle kisses across his nose, cheeks, eyelids. 

“You were so good, baby. So good.” She murmurs affectionately, breathlessly.

“That was so...” he trails off, an exhausted half-smile playing on his features, wild eyes gazing into her own. He doesn’t seem to know how to finish the sentence, so he settles for kissing her. Hard. She doesn’t even know where that energy came from, but, again... he’s Captain America, so she shouldn’t be surprised.

He pushes his tongue into her mouth and she sighs, more than content with the feeling, this confined passion. And then he snakes his hand up her leg. 

They both gasp a moan when his fingers make contact with her slit, slipping in the wetness he finds there. 

“Jesus fuck,” He marvels, his voice hoarse, and hearing him say those words in that tone sends yet another jolt of arousal through her.

He pushes her onto her back, rolling atop her so he can suck marks into the impossibly soft tops of her breasts where he will be able to see them tomorrow. She grinds her hips against his still bare pelvis—his cock still half hard—at the thought of him marking her just so it can be his own dirty little secret. 

He palms her tits and rubs her nipples between his thumb and forefinger, but leaves her bra on, the thin lace of the cups driving her mad as he travels even lower. 

When he reaches the raised scar tissue on her hip, he kisses it delicately, lovingly, and she almost cries she’s so overcome with emotion — need and want and passion and love. 

———

Natasha curses loudly when Steve reaches his target destination, licking broadly at her cunt like he’s cleaning up her mess. The sight of it, of all this wetness when she has yet to come ignites something in him. The thought that all this came from fucking him, from his pleasure... it’s nearly too much. He dives back in. He feels her fingers twist tightly in his hair as he works at her with his lips and tongue, flicking and sucking at her clit when he feels compelled to do so, which is a lot. 

Mostly, though, he can’t get enough of the way she tastes. Burying himself in the sweet softness between her thighs, thanking her for giving him new experiences and teaching him everything. It’s a religious experience, he thinks, and then he remembers he’s definitely due to attend confession.

He’d been holding her hips steady with both hands, but he removes one so he can use his fingers on her the way she likes, leaving indentations of his fingertips on her skin from his grip. 

Steve pushes his middle and ring finger, the two thickest (and most practiced), into her and curls, pressing against her upper wall. She’s so slick it’s distracting, but not as distracting as her beautiful gasps and moans above him. He can feel her getting close as her cunt contracts around his fingers, paying even more special attention to her clit until her thighs clamp against his ears and she’s shuddering, spasming as her orgasm rips through her body.

He continues to lap softly at her, letting her come down from the high and ride the aftershocks as he quite literally drinks in the taste of her. When her hands loosen and start to caress his hair, he takes that as his signal to come back up. When he does, Natasha immediately brings his head down, kissing his lips firmly and soundly, tasting herself of his tongue.

“I love you,” She whispers when they part, a confession accessible only to the minimal space between them, but monumental.

She’s never said that before. He’s said it to her in the eight months-or-so they’ve been together, but he respected her hesitance and her uncertainty of whether she was even capable of loving someone in this way, embracing every part of her. 

Now, it appears she knows what he’s known all along; she is capable. Exceedingly so. 

He kisses her again and when he pulls back to look into her eyes, tears are swimming in them. He doesn’t exactly know how their carnal, heated activities turned into something of an emotional reckoning, but he knows it feels right.

“I love you too,” he says simply, situating himself back on the bed and pulling her close. He unclasps her bra, knowing she doesn’t like to sleep in them and also wanting to feel as much of her skin against his as possible. How can something that sexy be comfortable, anyway? She smiles sweetly at him as she shrugs it off, burrowing her face into his neck and relishing in his arms encircling her. 

Sweat is cooling rapidly on their bodies, specifically Natasha’s back, the duvet desperately needs washed, and their clothes are strewn across the floor along with the strap-on, but neither of them care one bit. Natasha sighs, utterly content to bask in the fleeting exhilaration in the arms of the man she loves. The last thing she feels before drifting into a deep sleep is his lips pressing lightly against her forehead.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Comments are greatly appreciated :)
> 
> I also apologize for the strange POV changes, hope they weren't too distracting.


End file.
